


It Started in a Barn

by lotrspnfangirl



Series: Destiel Morning Porn Club Fics [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Barn Sex, Bottom Castiel, Case Fic, Episode: s12e12 Stuck In The Middle (With You), M/M, Near Death Experiences, Rough Sex, This wasn't how it happened..., Top Dean, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 19:09:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10905636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotrspnfangirl/pseuds/lotrspnfangirl
Summary: It's funny how it takes a life or death situation to make you realize everything you could've lost. Dean met Castiel in a run down barn, it's only fair this is where it starts.





	It Started in a Barn

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thank you to [Tanyk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tanyk/pseuds/Tanyk) for betaing for me!!! Comments fuel the fire! Happy Sunday and Happy Mother's Day ♥ Also, idfk about the title. This one did not come to me. 
> 
> Some lines taken straight from the episode, the rest is creative liberty. And, well, _smut_. 
> 
> Huge thank you to WinchestersRaven and Islanderbib83 to reading this over for me to tell me it wasn't god awful.

It came on suddenly, a rage so white hot it took him by surprise. He hadn’t felt anger like that since the mark had been imbedded in his arm and its darkness twisted around his soul. He didn’t have any right to feel it, but that didn’t quell the sudden storm.

His fists clenched against his thighs and he was grateful for the table hiding them from view. The hunter, Wally, and even the woman he called Mom, sitting directly across from him didn’t know him enough to notice anything amiss. But beside him, Sam shifted. He knew if he looked, Sam would be watching him, concerned and worried at the sudden change. But he couldn’t look up. 

If he looked up and saw… 

He cleared his throat, and his mind. There was no sense in going there. They were here for business and Dean would be damned if he let some diner waitress flirting with Castiel throw him off his game. 

When her shoes moved away from the table, he breathed out a soft sigh and finally unclenched his hands. 

“You okay?” Sam asked, as Dean knew he would, the moment they stepped outside of the diner. 

Dean glanced over at him and nodded once. Sam, of course, staring at him over the top of the Impala with an eyebrow raised, didn’t believe him. But he dropped it in favor of opening up the Impala and climbing into the passenger seat. Dean stopped at his own door and looked up to see if Castiel was coming with them. 

Mary waved them off and climbed into Wally’s Jeep as Castiel opened the back door to the Impala. Through the oversized diner windows, Dean could see the waitress watching their departure through the painted glass. He didn’t hold back when he saw her glancing over at Castiel and scowled before smiling wide and giving her a wink. 

“Dean?” Castiel’s voice drew his attention,he sank into the seat and moved to start the ignition. “Everything alright?”

“‘Course, Cas,” Dean answered, tossing a tight smile over his shoulder as he shifted into gear. “Just ready to kick some demon ass.” 

Silence fell over the car and Dean took that as the reprieve he needed to get into the headspace for their upcoming hunt. It was a regular, run of the mill demon hunt, and with the five of them they were more than prepared. But they’d had their fair share of simple gone bad.

They followed the Jeep through town and down a dirt backroad. Dean grumbled under his breath with every pothole and beside him, Sam chuckled softly. When Wally pulled off the side of the road into a nice sized ditch, Dean swore instead. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“She’s been through worse,” Sam commented and Dean threw him a glare before inching his way down the embankment. The three of them exited the car and met Mary and Wally at the back to get the supplies. 

“Just a ten minute walk through the woods,” Wally said as he picked up the bag of spray paint and reached for a flashlight. “There’s a break up above that opens into a field we can cut across.”

“Is it wise to be so out in the open?” Castiel asked, looking down the road in front of them before peering at the other hunter. The look of contemplation was the same expression he’d had when the waitress first hit on him and Dean shut the trunk just a little bit harder than necessary. 

“The river is on the other side of the property. The demon won’t be heading this way for couple hours or so, yet.”

Dean nodded in response to Wally’s explanation and trudged off in the direction he’d pointed to before. He heard the rest of the group following after him, conversation ended. The road split into two around a bend and Wally jerked his head to the left, directing Dean. They crossed the dirt road and came upon a path that Dean immediately took. Their flashlights just barely broke through the pitch dark of the trees. 

It reminded him of nights spent in Purgatory and before he could stop himself, he looked over his shoulder to locate Cas. The angel was almost directly behind him, his eyes flicking over from watching the forest before them to meeting Dean’s gaze. There was a twitch at the corner of his lips, a slight nod, and Dean knew he’d understood. 

Just as Wally had said, a few minutes through the trees and they reached a large, grassy clearing. At the far edge of the field, Dean could just make out a large farmhouse, a light shining brightly through the night on the front porch. 

Despite the reassurance that the demon wouldn’t see them, the group picked up their pace and made it through the grass in record time. At the side of the house, Dean found a large, metal oil drum. He motioned to Sam to help him move it to the window and then climbed on top to look inside. 

Most of the bottom floor was visible from the window, through open doors and hallways, and he quickly gave out positions before they made their way to the backdoor. It was unlocked -- what kind of dumb bastard leaves their door unlocked? -- and then they were inside. 

He made his way to the kitchen, Sam making his way to the front door to set up a devil’s trap. Mary and Castiel head to cover the living room and dining room. Dean started to load his gun. Wally was still outside, hidden off to the side of the porch and ready to alert them when he saw the demon approaching. 

He hears the signal, a pebble hitting the window where they’d originally started, and Dean glances down at his watch. 8:36 PM. Show time. 

It was a regular, run of the mill demon hunt. Was supposed to be anyways. They had the traps set at the entrances and that alone should’ve been enough to stop him. When Dean heard heavy set footsteps coming through to foyer, he knew that the simple had officially gone bad. 

Chaos erupted. Dean could hear breaking glass, the sound of his own gun firing, Sam yelling at him to duck seconds before his brother was thrown into the curio cabinet. This was no ordinary demon, and Dean cursed under his breath as he dragged Sam up from the ground, Wally shouting at them from outside that they had more visitors, a male and female demon coming up the drive. The demon they were there for gets distracted and they were able to slip outside to help Wally.

They watched, unable to do anything as Wally’s throat was crushed beneath the female demon’s foot. They took out the two demons easily, like the first demon should’ve been, and then hear the sound of an old Ford truck speeding off and then, silence. 

“Let’s go.” Sam draws his attention, wincing as he holds onto his side and reaches for Dean’s arm. “Come on.”

“Mom and Cas-”

“We’ll regroup, Dean. They can take care of themselves. Come on, before that demon comes back around here.” 

Dean hesitates for another moment, scans the grounds he can see for a sign of Castiel or Mary, and then swears under his breath before following Sam. 

The field is out, neither one of them are up to take that risk, so they go around the back edge of the property instead. The house is almost out of view, and they’ve reached more forest, when Sam stops and starts scrambling for his phone. 

“Mom?” 

Dean stops then, turns and watches Sam while keeping half of his attention over his brother’s shoulder and toward the house -- just in case. When he looks back at Sam, his stomach clenches. 

“What is it?” Dean asks, forgetting all about keeping watch around them. Sam’s wide eyes turn to him, but he doesn’t answer. “Fuck, Sam, what is it?”

“We’re coming,” Sam answers whatever their mom said and then hangs up the phone. “Come on.” The last part is directed to Dean, but he doesn’t answer Dean’s question, and instead turns around and heads back to the property. 

“Sammy. Sam! What the hell?” Dean moves after him, reaching for the back of his flannel and tugging hard. “Is Mom okay?”

Sam nods his head, twisting away from his grip. “Mom’s fine. She and Cas… they’re at that barn.” Sam points and Dean squints in the darkness. The barn is large and too close to the farm house for Dean’s comfort. He’s about to say so when Sam continues, “Mom’s fine. But Cas…”

“Let’s go.” Dean shoves past Sam. He hears Sam hiss his name, since now Dean’s moving directly across the grass, not caring about sticking to shadows or the treeline. He doesn’t give a damn. Cas is in trouble; he could be at the damn farm house still for all Dean cared, he just knew they had to get there. 

There was no demon to greet them when they reached the yard, and Dean didn’t hesitate as he strode to the barn doors and shoved them wide open. Moonlight streamed in from the door and he raked his eyes across the open space to see his mom kneeling on the ground. Her eyes were worried as she looked at them. Before him was an old couch and Dean’s heart stopped, lodged in his throat, when he saw Castiel on it. 

“What the hell happened?” he demanded, storming through the barn to stand before Castiel. 

The angel barely acknowledged them, just grimaced in pain. The barn doors slammed shut and Mary reached over to flick on a lantern. In the yellow light, Dean could clearly see the sheen of sweat covering Castiel’s face, his skin pale and glistening with sweat.

“Where’s Wally?” Mary asked and Dean stared down at her, incredulous. 

Thankfully, Sam took over and explained the situation. Dean swallowed hard and sank down to his knees on the other side of Castiel. 

“Cas,” he said and smiled when Castiel opened his eyes and looked at him. “Hey, wow. You look like hammered crap.” 

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Castiel answered and Dean smiled. If he still had a sense of humor, it couldn’t be that bad… right? He reached forward to where Castiel’s shirt was soaked with blood and pulled back the fabric. His stomach roiled at the thick black lines creeping away from a large, open wound on his stomach. He swallowed hard as he tracked them, realizing they were following each of Castiel’s veins. 

“It’s… not that bad,” he whispered, letting the shirt go and Castiel gave him a half smile. “Really, I mean, I’ve had worse.”

“Dean, something’s wrong.” Castiel started to explain -- he couldn’t heal himself, he thought he was dying -- and behind him Sam was still talking to Mary. Dean couldn’t hear any of it, not really, all he could focus on was the pounding inside of his head, his own heartbeat loud and echoing. 

“No,” he said suddenly, cutting off the conversations in the room. He could feel Sam and Mary looking at him, but his eyes were trained on Castiel struggling to keep his eyes open and to focus on Dean. “No, you’re going to be just fine, Cas. Even if you can’t… mojo yourself to health, we’ll do it the old fashioned way. Rest and time and--”

“You idiots!” Dean jumped and turned, Crowley’s voice making his stomach drop. “Not only is Castiel going to die, you’re _all_ going to die!”

“He’s… a Prince of Hell, isn’t he?” Dean whipped his head back around, back to Cas whose eyes were now trained on Crowley. They were missing something; they’d missed something huge. 

“Ramiel,” Crowley answered and Dean watched recognition flash over Castiel’s face. “I thought they were all dead.” Castiel winced, his arm coming up to curl across his stomach and Dean shifted closer, hovering. 

“I’m sure you thought Michael’s Lance was gone, too.” 

Castiel closed his eyes and clenched his fist before looking over at Dean. “I’m going to die, Dean.”

“No, you’re not, Cas. Come on, man!” Dean argued and looked over his shoulder at Sam, at Crowley, at Mary, wondering why none of them were doing anything. Someone had to be able to do something. “Fix him,” he said, pinning Crowley with a stare. 

Crowley just stared back, uncharacteristically silent. 

“Dean…” Dean looked back when he felt Castiel’s hand close over his, fingers like ice against his skin. “There is… no cure for this. Michael’s Lance was built for one purpose, to torture Lucifer and… and to dispose of him permanently.” 

“No. Cas, the Mark was incurable. Death, is incurable. The wall in Sam’s brain and banishment to Purgatory and losing your soul is incurable. We’ve beat that, all of us. So just, listen--”

“No, you listen to me. You,” Castiel shifted, tried to sit up before collapsing back down. “Look,” he whispered, swallowing hard and meeting Dean’s eyes before looking to Sam, Mary, and then Crowley. “Thank you. _Thank you._ Knowing you, it… it’s been the best part of my life.”

Dean couldn’t breathe. He just stared at Cas. Through everything, how could he be giving up? They’d gotten through worse, Castiel had helped them get through worse! He tried to say that, but the words were stuck, his breathing coming quickly as he just stared. 

“The things that… the things that we’ve shared together, they have changed me,” Castiel continued, “You’re my family. I love you.”

Dean’s heart skipped a beat and he wanted to scream, wanted to reach out and grab Castiel’s shoulders and shake some sense into him. This wasn’t supposed to be how this happened. This wasn’t right, this wasn’t--

Castiel ripped his eyes away, looked over Dean’s shoulder. “I love all of you. Just, please…” His eyes flicked back, locking with Dean’s, silently begged him. “Please don’t make my last moments be spent watching you die. Just run. Save yourselves and I will hold Ramiel off as long as I can.”

“Cas, no!” Dean was surprised at the amount of venom in his voice, the anger that dripped from those two words. How dare Cas give up, how dare he be okay with surrendering and… and… 

“We’re going to fight for you, Cas. We’re not leaving you.” Dean swallowed hard at Sam’s words, watched as Castiel closed his eyes and turned his head away in defeat. 

The barn was silent except for Castiel’s broken gasps for air, all of them lost in their own thoughts. Sam and Crowley moved away from the couch, talking quickly and hushed about what to do when Ramiel came. Crowley was sure he would, and Dean agreed. 

Ramiel would come and he most likely would kill them all. Dean couldn’t think of any way out of it. They had no Colt like they’d had with Azazael, no weapons with them save the guns in their holsters and a dying angel, no supplies for a devil’s trap -- not that Dean even knew of one that would stop a Prince of Hell. 

Dean ran a hand down his face, glancing over at Castiel who’s eyes were still shut. He licked his lower lip, Castiel’s words still ringing and repeating in his head. He wanted to ask, was dying to ask, if Castiel meant it. Would it change anything now? Probably not… But Dean could die knowing that--

“Dean!” Sam hissed and Dean looked up, just as the barn doors flew open, slamming against the walls by an unseen force. Dean stood, shielding Castiel’s body as best as he could and reaching for his gun. It wouldn’t do much, but he wasn’t going down without a damn fight. 

Ramiel walked in, eyes flashing yellow, and a song spilling from his lips. He was taunting them, grinned wide, and stood in the doorway with his arms crossed. 

“Well, well. It smells like death in here.” He smiled and Dean wanted nothing more than to shoot that smirk right off his fucking face. “It’s been a long while since I’ve had angel blood on my hands.”

“You son of a bitch,” Dean swore and yellow eyes flashed to him. From his peripheral vision, Dean saw Sam slinking around one of the support beams towards the edge of the barn. 

“Actually, it’s been a long time since I’ve had any blood on my hands. Shame, really, to have my retirement come crashing down.” He flung his left hand out and there was a thud and a cry from Sam in the darkness. Dean glared, fist clenching around his gun. “Should’ve left me alone.”

“We’ll leave you alone now,” Mary offered and the demon before them laughed. 

“Little too late, sweetheart,” he replied as he conjured a weapon out of the air, leaning against it as if it were a walking stick. There was blood at the tip, glistening in the lantern light, and Dean could only assume that this was the lance that was responsible for hurting Cas. 

“Ramiel,” Crowley tried, but was effectively silenced with another flick of Ramiel’s wrist. Crowley was flung backwards and landed somewhere in a crumpled heap near Sam. His attention turned back to Mary, then over Dean’s shoulder at Castiel, and he smiled again. 

The same white hot fury Dean felt earlier that evening in the diner came back with a vengeance. Behind him, he heard Castiel cry out his name in warning, but Dean was done listening, was done caring. He charged forward, slamming his first into the demon’s face and getting knocked to the ground for his effort. 

Ramiel moved with him, the lance a bar across Dean’s throat as he pressed him against the ground, still smirking, and Dean hated him more than anything. He struggled against the hold, reached for the edges of the lance to try to throw the demon off of him. The pressure increased and Dean started to see spots of black flooding his vision. 

“Dean!” He wasn’t sure if it was Castiel or his mom screaming his name, but suddenly Mary was on Ramiel’s back, arms crossed over his throat and trying to pull him back. It released some of the pressure against Dean’s throat and he bucked up, the combined efforts effectively throwing the demon off balance. Dean scrabbled for purchase, yanking against the lance and somehow-- someway -- it came free in his hands. 

He slammed the end of the weapon into Ramiel’s face, knocking him back to the ground. Mary stood up quickly, coming to stand at Dean’s side, and behind them he heard Castiel speak. 

“Stab him, Dean! The lance will… the lance will kill him.”

 

Not needing to be told twice, Dean dodged Ramiel’s legs as they shot out to trip him and knocked him in the face again before spinning the lance around and slamming the sharp edge of the lance straight into the demon’s gut. It was poetic, almost, the lance piercing his body the same place he’d stabbed Cas.

Then his body erupted into flames. 

A groan came from the side of the barn -- either Sam or Crowley -- and Dean realized he’d been standing there staring at the pile of ash Ramiel left behind, the lance hanging loosely from his hand. He let it fall from his fingers, the sound of the metal clanging to the ground almost too loud in the large space, and he turned to stride back over to the couch. 

Castiel looked a million times worse. There was no color to his skin anymore, just a sickly grey tone, and the black tendrils creeping up from beneath his collar. His eyes were dull and lifeless as he struggled to open them when he felt the couch dip from the weight of Dean’s body. He was shaking, feverish or freezing, Dean didn’t know. 

“Cas…” Dean swallowed hard, reached for one of Castiel’s trembling hands and clutching it in his own for all he was worth. “He’s… he’s gone, Cas. We did it. One thing down, right?”

Castiel smiled, then it morphed into a grimace, his fingers twitching in Dean’s grasp. “I’m… sorry, Dean,” he whispered, voice breaking at the end. “I want to thank you, for being-”

“Shut up, Cas. Shut up,” Dean cut him off, shaking his head. If Cas couldn’t get it out, couldn’t say goodbye, then he couldn’t… 

“Dean,” Mary’s voice was soft at his back and he felt her hand come to rest against his shoulder. 

“Mary, thank you,” Castiel started again and Mary leaned down, kissing the top of his head. 

“I know, Castiel. Thank you. Thank you for taking such good care of my boys.”

Dean twitched under her hand, wanted to scream at her to shut up, too. 

“Castiel.” Crowley approached, looking solemn. Castiel met his eyes and they nodded at each other. Then Crowley disappeared. 

“No,” Dean whispered when he felt Sam come up from behind. 

Sam just cleared his throat, ignoring him and moved to the other side of Castiel. “Cas…” Sam whispered and Dean closed his eyes, squeezing them as tight as he could, tried not to listen to Sam say goodbye. 

Sam’s voice broke and Dean snapped, dropping Castiel’s hand and shoving away from the couch. He needed to punch something, to break something. This couldn’t be happening… they killed the demon, they won, so why were they losing everything? His foot collided with the lance and he ripped it up from the ground, slamming it down like a bat against the ground. 

The sound it made was loud, cutting off the goodbye speeches behind him, but it wasn’t enough. He slammed it down again and again, ignoring the painful vibrations that reverberated up his arms, the wincing from Mary with every blow, the soft sobs coming from his brother. 

The last blow was different, a rattling coming after and Dean opened his eyes to see the lance had been split in two, the bottom half rolling away from him to escape his anger. He dropped the useless top half and just stared, numb and shaking. 

“Dean…” He ignored Sam, shaking his head slightly as he stared at the ground. The cement was scuffed where he’d hit the lance into the ground so many times… 

“Dean!” his mom tried instead, her voice thick with disbelief and Dean was terrified to turn around. What if… what if Cas… 

“Dean.”

He spun around then, blinking away the tears that had betrayed him and stared. Sam was smiling, his hands moving over Castiel’s chest, checking for residual injuries. Mary was gaping, mouth slightly open, glancing between Castiel and then over at Dean. 

“When you broke the lance…” she whispered and Dean nodded, staring. Castiel’s eyes looked clear, color returning to his cheeks, and he glanced up with wide eyes from where he was watching Sam check him over to meet Dean’s. 

“Sam,” Dean said, eyes never leaving Castiel’s, “Go get the Imapala.” 

Sam nodded, reaching forward to pull Castiel into a hug and then getting the keys from Dean. Mary stood as well, squeezing Castiel’s hand and then Dean’s shoulder as she walked by, telling him she was going to get the Jeep, too. 

Dean swallowed hard as the doors to the barn fell shut, leaving just him and Castiel in silence. 

Cas was still sitting on the couch, legs spread wide and his ruined, blood stained shirt rucked up. Dean watched as he pushed himself up, movements slow and shaky as if he wasn’t sure he was actually okay, actually alive. 

There was a sudden pained noise that made both of them jump, Castiel’s eyes wide and unnaturally blue in the dimly lit barn. He moved quickly, his own state of undress and near-death experience forgotten as he moved to where Dean stood, and it was then that Dean realized the sound had come from him. 

“Are you okay?” Castiel asked, his voice rougher and lower than usual, cracking at the end as he reached his hand up for Dean’s forehead. 

Dean grabbed his wrist and stopped him, staring back at him in disbelief. Was he okay? Was he okay? Castiel looked confused, opened his mouth to respond, to speak, but Dean didn’t want to hear anything. He yanked Castiel’s arm, pitching the angel forward and spun them. He slammed Castiel back against the support beam, pressed in close, and claimed his lips in a bruising kiss. 

When they broke apart, Dean’s lungs screaming for air, his lips tingling from the missing pressure of Castiel against his mouth. Cas spoke. “Dean,” came out as a sigh and Dean’s heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“You… you almost died, Cas,” Dean whispered back. He could feel Castiel’s body against his own, a solid line of heat and life. His hands found Castiel’s hips and he pulled them closer together. “You were-- I didn’t--”

“I’m okay, Dean,” Castiel replied, realization dawning. He smiled, almost sadly, his hands dropping to cover Dean’s on his waist. “I am sorry that I scared you.”

With shaking hands, Dean slowly undid the buttons to Castiel’s shirt, pulling it back to check for himself that the wound was gone. Beneath his touch, Castiel shivered. Dean swallowed hard and paused, waiting for Castiel to meet his gaze.

“Did you mean it?” Dean asked. There was a flicker of confusion and then he watched Castiel’s eyes widen slightly, and his breath catch in his throat. 

“Yes, Dean. I meant it.” 

“You son of a bitch,” Dean whispered, shaking his head, “You were going to tell me like that?” 

“I didn’t want to die without you knowing how I felt about you.” 

In response, Dean crushed their lips together again. He kissed Castiel like his life depended on it, mapped out every square inch of his mouth with his tongue. Castiel gave as good as he got, clinging to Dean, pulling him closer, kissing him breathless. 

They moved in a frenzy, never breaking their kiss, hands ripping at clothing until they stood, panting in the darkness of the barn, completely naked. Dean swallowed hard and let his eyes trail down Castiel’s body. There was still some dried blood on his hip and he reached forward, brushing it away with his thumb. 

“Dean.” Dean looked up, watched the emotions he himself was feeling flicker across Castiel’s face, and his heart skipped when Castiel echoed his own words from years ago. “I need you.”

He bent down for his jeans, feeling around for his wallet and removing a pocket-sized lube from inside. When he stood back up, Castiel was turned around, shoulder pressed against the beam, back arched slightly and legs spread. 

Slowly, Dean walked forward, trailing his fingertips lightly down Castiel’s back, over the cleft of his ass. Goosebumps broke out across Castiel’s skin and he gave a soft sigh, opening his legs wider and shifting his hips back to give Dean the access he needed. 

Dean ripped the foil packet open and squeezed the lubricant onto his fingers, shifting the gel slightly to warm it before returning his attention to the angel spread out before him. Slowly, he pressed a finger against Castiel’s opening, just breaching the tight muscle. Castiel let out a soft groan, egging Dean on. 

It was as if time stopped; nothing of the night mattered anymore, not really. The barn fell away, the pile of ash and broken lance forgotten as Dean slowly worked Castiel open, pressing deeper inside of his body. He leaned forward, pressing his lips against Castiel’s back, just between his shoulder blades.

He pressed in close, adding a second finger, then a third, resting his head against the back of Castiel’s neck. Castiel reached behind him, finding Dean’s free hand and holding on tight as he rocked back on his fingers. 

“I’m ready,” Castiel whispered, his voice wrecked as he squeezed Dean’s hand. “Please, Dean, I-”

“Shhh,” Dean whispered just below his ear, slowly withdrawing his fingers and turning Castiel around. He spread the remaining lube over himself and then kissed Castiel softly, swallowing down the soft noises spilling from his lips. He ran his hands down Castiel’s sides, the back of his thighs, before he gripped Castiel hard and hoisted him up. 

Castiel moaned loudly, legs coming around Dean’s waist and holding them together as his spine pressed back into the beam, his ass angled perfectly forward. Dean had a moment of worry, the beam wasn’t very big, there could be splinters, before Castiel silenced him. 

“Dean Winchester, if you stop right now, so help me--”

Dean kissed him quiet, pressing them harder into the beam and removing one of his hands from Castiel’s ass to guide them together. He sank into Castiel’s body slowly with a groan, stopping only once he was buried deep inside. 

They held their position for a moment, breathing in the other’s air as Castiel’s body adjusted to Dean’s cock inside of him. Then Dean moved, rocking his hips back slightly only to slam back inside. Castiel’s back slid against the wall and he gasped in both pain and pleasure, his legs tightening around Dean’s waist. 

Castiel’s hands came down to Dean’s shoulders, his fingernails digging into the back of his neck as he clung to Dean’s body. Dean reached between them, wrapped his fingers around Castiel’s cock and pumped his fist in time with his hips. He pounded every fear, every doubt, every repressed feeling he’d ever had into Castiel’s body, drowned them with his choked off sobs and the sound of flesh against flesh. It was a new sort of desperation, and Dean clung to Castiel, fucking into him harder and faster, fingers digging into his skin as if he would suddenly, somehow, disappear. 

Dean was drowning in Castiel’s breathy moans and the feeling of his body hot and tight, clenching down on his cock. Castiel cried out, his body stiffening as his cock pulsed hot, his release coating Dean’s hand and chest and Castiel’s stomach. 

Dean groaned, his hips losing their rhythm as he chased his own release, groaning as his balls tightened and he pressed harder against Castiel’s body, stilling as he spilt his release deep inside. They stayed there for a moment, breathing hard, sweaty and sticky from Castiel’s release sandwiched between their bodies. When he had caught his breath, Dean slowly lowered Castiel’s legs to the ground, pulling him forward into his arms before leading them both to the couch. They collapsed on top of it, Castiel curling around Dean’s side, arms holding him close.

Dean’s hand moved gently up Castiel’s back, feeling the raised flesh. He shifted, sliding almost off the couch so he could look at the damage. “Are you okay?” he whispered, fingers ghosting across the scrapes before he leaned forward and kissed the heated skin. 

“I’m perfect, Dean,” Castiel answered, smiling and reaching for Dean to come back. They lay there, catching their breath and holding onto one another until Castiel broke the silence again. “I am not a fan of this couch.”

Dean chuckled, reaching for Castiel’s chin and tipping his face up so he could kiss him. “I’m not a fan either. Let’s go home.” 

Castiel nodded, closing his eyes for a moment and when he stood, Dean smiled when he saw he’d healed his back completely. They cleaned up with Castiel’s ruined shirt, Castiel wearing Dean’s undershirt instead, and pulled on the rest of their clothes. Dean pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and chuckled at the text on the screen: **Keys in visor. Bunkers are better than barns.**


End file.
